A Spamano Christmas Carol
by Hydrofax is Hungry
Summary: A scrooge named Lovino Vargas hates Christmas. One Christmas Eve, he encounters an acquaintance of his named Antonio in a dream, as well as the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Yet to Come.
1. Introduction: Reuniting in a Dream

A gust of wind picks up the powdery snow on the ground, whirling it through the chill evening skies. Lovino shudders in the cold. He trudges onwards, walking against the bitter wind, until the sidewalk turns onto his street. Several minutes later, just as darkness has fallen, the young man reaches his house and hurries inside to escape the winter night. With a huff he shrugs off his deep brown, insulated coat.

He stomps his boots on the carpet to rid them of snow and then removes them. Lovino steps into his living room and pulls the curtains just slightly aside. His eyes harden as he stares out at his neighbor Tino Väinämöinen's house; it's far too brightly lit, with multicolored lights strung from every tree in his yard. Giant candy canes stick up out of the snow lining the pathway to the house's entrance while a blow-up Santa billows in the wind. A little boy, Peter, dashes around the yard, laughing loudly and playing.

It filled Lovino with rage. Who are they, to put up such gaudy and abhorrent decorations that ruin the image of the entire neighborhood? The lights shone through Lovino's curtains. It was terribly rude and inconsiderate! He sighs angrily and falls into his large couch. But just as he has made himself comfortable, his bell rings, a sing-song noise that filles him with bitterness. _Oh, just leave me alone_ , he thought. A moment later he had begrudgingly gotten off of the couch and marched to his front door, which he then threw open.

Standing outside, covered head to toe in scarves, coats, hats, and mittens to the point where only his face shone through, was David Peters. He was a longtime family friend, as well as his sister Emma and his brother Abel. David's face is pink and his breath puffs from his mouth, dissipating in the air seconds later. In his shivering hands, he holds a letter. Lovino snatches it up and tears it open to reveal an invitation to a Christmas party.

"The fuck am I supposed to do with this?" he barks. David winces.

"W-well, go to the party, of course. That is, if you'd like to. I know you don't normally go, but I just thought I'd offer, just in case. Please consider it."

Lovino snorts. If he hadn't gone before, he wasn't going to simply change his mind this year. He crinkles the invitation up and stuffs it into his pants pocket. Lovino hadn't put his coat back on to answer the door, and the cold was beginning to seep into the house, and, it seemed, into his bones.

"Whatever. My house is going to freeze over soon. See you later," Lovino mutters. He slams the door. The Italian man walks through his living room, up two flights of stairs, and into his bedroom. Red curtains sway from the movement of air caused by the heater. Lovino undresses and changes into his sleepwear, a black shirt that's a little too long and gray pajama pants. He climbs into his bed and turns on the electric heater. The time on the clock reads 9:13. It was certainly early to go to bed, but Lovino just wanted Christmas Eve to be over quickly, so that Christmas day would end sooner as well. Although he ought to feel warm by now, he couldn't quite overcome the chill of the wind that swooshed at him when he slammed the door on David. Or perhaps it was the sadness on David's face when he did it. It didn't matter.

Sleep covered Lovino like the blanket of snow covering the ground outside.

A beautiful man stands over Lovino when he awakes. His skin is darkened from sunlight, and his chocolate-colored hair curls around his ears and frames his face. Mesmerizing green eyes peer at him curiously. Lovino's hazel eyes widen in shock and he hastily sits up.

"Who—How—what the _hell_ are you doing in my house?" cries Lovino. "There's _no_ way you got in! My alarm system is fucking fantastic!"

The man had jumped back at his outburst. Lovino throws back his blankets and leaps to his feet, forcing the man to back up a bit further. "Ah, easy now. I'm Antonio. I believe we've met before."

Recognition falls across Lovino's face. They had met once, a long while ago, at one of David's parties. But he hadn't seen Antonio in years, and it certainly didn't answer why he was in his bedroom. "Give me one goddamn good reason not to call the cops," Lovino hisses, his hand sliding to where his iPhone sits upon his nightstand. Outside, wind and snow pound the side of the house and whistle a melancholy tune. Lovino's eyes quickly dart to his clock. 11:01 pm. With the snow outside reflecting the moon's light the room is noticeably bright. Yellow light fell across the room.

Antonio smiles warmly and he chuckles a bit. "Well, you see, this is a dream."

"More like a damn nightmare."

And then, a moment later, "What the fuck do you mean this is a dream?"

Antonio sits at the end of the bed, smiling sheepishly. "It's just as I said. You're asleep. I'm a figment of your imagination."

"I met you once, when I was like, fucking 15. Why the hell would I dream about you, asshole?"

His eyes glinting in amusement he replies, "Well, I don't know why you're dreaming about a man you met 10 years ago. It's _your_ weird dream, not mine."

Lovino rolls his eyes. It makes sense that this is a dream. But it feels impossibly vivid. He glances at a document resting on his nightstand. Although he can understand its gist, he can't read the individual words. It's disconcerting, but it confirms that this is a dream. Lovino sighs. "I can't wait until I wake up."

"Lovino, let's cut to the chase. I'm here to tell you: stop being a dick to everyone."

Lovino scoffs at him. He was _not_ a dick, surely. Perhaps a bit callous, maybe not the best at handling social situations, but he wasn't a _dick_. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, mister."

Antonio sighs softly. "You really don't know? Doesn't it at all bother you how much you hurt David's feelings? Have you not noticed how even the smallest things, like another person' happiness, makes you bitter?"

"That's… not true. I felt bad about the David thing. It's just that that doesn't affect me as much as it would others, I guess. He invited me to a party, I said no. Don't I have the right to turn down an invitation? He'll get over it, he always does. And I'm _not_ bitter that Tino and his family are happy. I don't give a damn about those assholes," Lovino retorts.

"But it _is_ true, and you know it. You just won't admit it. You must acknowledge the truth and accept it before you can change it."

"And why should I have to change how I am to suit others? I don't give a damn about David's party, I don't give a damn about Tino's joy, and I don't give a damn about Christmas or Christmas spirit!" Lovino snaps, now seething with anger.

Antonio frowns. He raises one arm, and says, "It's time to change your attitude."


	2. Ghost of Christmas Past

A light encompasses the room, dissolving it, and then the whole world, into white nothingness. It's deathly silent. A minute or two pass like this, with Lovino standing, frozen like a statue, waiting for something to occur. Eventually, color returns to the world. It's imperceptible at first, for the scene being painted as if on a canvas is one full of snow. The world unfolds around Lovino—snow covering nearly every surface and still coming, falling from the sky; shrieks of joy and laughter, much like those of Peter; the whoosh of cars on the street behind him; and standing just before him, Lovino's childhood mansion in Italy.

His mouth is agape. Two little boys dash around the side of the home and enter Lovino's view. To his shock, he knows them. In fact, he _is_ one. The younger version of Lovino, only 6 years old, runs close to the street. Lovino remembers this. It was Christmas day, and he and his little brother Feliciano had received new mittens and a sled. They'd promptly gone to play outside. Memory-Feliciano throws a snowball at memory-Lovino. In an attempt to dodge it, he flees into the road, oblivious to the possibility of oncoming traffic. He will not let Feli win, and that's all that matters to him right now.

"Wait, Lovi, stop! That's dangerous," young Feliciano insists, standing a foot away from the road.

"Ha! You just want me to come back so you can get me. Don't be a chicken, Feli, come and get me!"

Feliciano's eyes grow round and wide. "Lovi, _look_! There's a car coming!" he shrieks. He flails his arms around to get his older brother's attention, but Lovi ignores him as he continues to shout taunts. The door to the house swings open. Out steps Romulus, who has heard his grandson's yelling and commotion. He sees what's going on, runs to a startled Lovino, and carries him off of the street, within moments of the car passing.

 _I never was a very good kid, huh_ , the present Lovino thinks. Suddenly, someone materializes in front of him, causing him to stumble backwards. Oddly enough, the person reminds Lovino of David. They look almost exactly alike, though this being appears much younger.

"Hello! I'm the Ghost of Christmas Past! It's a pleasure to meet you!"

Oh bother, he was an excited little gremlin. "Um, whatever, hi. Whadd'ya want? Why am I here?"

"I want to show you your past Christmases, as my name implies. As you can see, this is the Christmas when you were 6 and Feli was 5. Walk with me—there's more I'd like to show you," the Ghost of Christmas Past proclaims.

Nervously Lovino complies, following after the boy. As they walk side by side, the setting shifts, falls away, and reforms, a multitude of times. They progress through the Lovino's Christmases. Among them, there was the year his youngest brother Marchello was born, and Lovino couldn't help but feel as if, once more, he was being thrust aside, unwanted, not good enough. Another year Feliciano had returned from the private art middle school for Christmas, and again, no one paid attention to Lovino.

On his 14th Christmas he was in America for the first time, living with a distant relative, after Romulus had died in a tragic car accident. The next year, he celebrated at David's party, where he met Antonio. Each year until Lovino's 18th Christmas, that was where he celebrated it, surrounded by Feli, Marchello, David, Abel, Emma, and other party-goers. The year Lovino was 18, he sat alone in his dorm room; Feliciano had been accepted into a prestigious art-focused college while Lovino had long ago given up his dream of being an artist and had moved onto being a businessman. He did well in the college, but he was too resentful of his failure in art to return home for the holidays. Feliciano was too busy to visit him, and Marchello had school to deal with.

From that point on, Lovino, too, was far too overwhelmed with his life as an adult to make plans and visit relatives for Christmas. The day had become something negative to him anyways. Each year he sat alone, in his dark house, counting down the days until Christmas was over. He had inherited a fair share of Romulus's money, and had prospered as a businessman as well, but although he feigned contentedness around his friends and family, he was unhappy with his life.

As Lovino relives these memories, his heart feels heavy with sadness. He yearns for the years he spent in Italy; although even then he felt intense jealousy towards his brothers, particularly Feliciano, it was a better time than now. Romulus was alive. Marchello and Feli were there. _Hell_ , thinks Lovino, _even the year I met Antonio at David's party was better than how things are currently. I had David, Abel, Emma, Feli, and Marchello. What do I have now? A boring job, my loneliness, money, and a big, dark, empty house._

 _What is the point of all of this?_

Lovino's eyes begin to mist, and a single tear forms. It flows down his cheek like a river on a mountain, falling into a minuscule puddle at his feet. He struggles to hold back oncoming sobs. The Ghost of Christmas Past places his hand on his shoulder, a wisp of coolness and an attempt at comfort.

"I must go know," he states simply.

Once again, the world falls away into whiteness, silence, and blankness.


End file.
